


if i threw you off, i didn't intend to (do you feel it too?)

by voidpants



Series: dbh tumblr requests [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is a Little Shit, M/M, gavin reed is bad at life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidpants/pseuds/voidpants
Summary: The thing is, despite the…everythingabout the entire fucking situation, working with Connor isgood.It’s the most satisfying professional relationship Gavin’s ever had in his life.Now if they could just interact outside of the context of an active case without a repeat of the evidence locker looming in the distance, that would be great.(or, "Gavin Reed did not stand a fucking chance.")





	if i threw you off, i didn't intend to (do you feel it too?)

“I respect you, Gavin, which is why I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen here, and just expect you to take the fucking order without whining.”

“Wow, not even gonna let me in the fucking door before you lay some shit on me, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up, kid.”

“Fuck you too, Jeff.”

“The RK800 is coming back. Passed his exams, and he starts here next week as a uniformed rookie.”

“No.”

“Yes. I’m making him your problem.”

“Jeff, _no_.”

“_Gavin_. Not to say anything that’ll further inflate the fucking blimp you call a head, but you’re my best guy. Any other uniform or detective I could put him with, he’d run circles around. It’d be fucking embarrassing for everyone involved, but honestly? Mostly for me. So. He’s all yours. Try not to get your ass beat again.”

“God, I fucking hate you.”

“Noted, Detective.”

—

The thing is, despite the… _everything_ about the entire fucking situation, working with Connor is _good_.

In the past, Gavin’s never remained partnered for very long.

According to his former partners, it’s because Gavin is an arrogant, uncompromising sociopath, and that’s… a fair assessment of his character, probably.

But the _real _problem has always been that they just couldn’t keep up.

See, Gavin’s good at his job. He’s _great _at his job. Gavin is a goddamn fucking _genius_, and he’s got the single minded dedication to _apply _that genius for as long and as hard as he needs to to see results.

Gavin doesn’t have fucking _time _for people who either can’t follow the way his mind works, or aren’t committed enough to the job to do whatever it takes to see a case closed.

But Connor…

Connor keeps up. Gavin never has to explain his leaps in logic, because Connor just fucking _sees_. He’s just right there, building off them as if they were his own, expecting Gavin to follow his own leaps like it’s just a given.

And as far as dedication goes, he’s as obsessively laser focused as Gavin could possibly ask for.

It’s the most satisfying professional relationship Gavin’s ever had in his life.

Now if they could just interact outside of the context of an active case without a repeat of the evidence locker looming in the distance, that would be great.

—

Gavin’s hiding in the break room.

It’s a pretty shit place to hide, admittedly, what with the full view from the bullpen, and no furniture big enough to give him any sort of cover.

But it has the coffeemaker, so it’s still preferable to literally any other hiding place in the building.

Besides, it’s not as if anyone is going to come look for him in here, even if everyone in the precinct is one hundred percent aware of where he is.

He really shouldn’t have blown up. He can admit that, privately, to himself, in his own head, where the thought can stay and get quarantined and die a fiery death.

Connor had just been trying to be friendly. Probably. Talking about something that wasn’t the latest stiff. He wouldn’t even have needed to do any fucking scans to know about Gavin’s cats, it’s not as if Gavin doesn’t have his moments of being an obnoxious pet owner. But Connor had just opened his mouth, with that… _stupid _fucking smile on his face, and asked about their breeds, and that _itch _that’s always under Gavin’s skin when the android looks at him had just fucking snapped into an almost painful buzzing, and then he’d started yelling.

At least he hadn’t thrown any punches, thank fucking God. He’d been sorely fucking tempted once Connor had started replying to whatever dumb shit was spilling from Gavin’s mouth, unflinchingly level and _reasonable_. But then he’d said some _stupid _shit about Connor deviating, factory settings, and police work, like a fucking _jackass_, and Connor’s mouth had gone tight and he had leaned in, LED flickering from yellow to red, and told him: “Walk away, Gavin.”

And it didn’t calm the crawling in his skin, but at least it made him painfully aware of how he was one wrong move away from getting curb stomped in a reasonably well-trafficked corridor, in view of at least two security cameras.

So he’d stormed off to the break room to attempt to drown himself in a coffee cup and regret never learning how to fake being a functioning human adult for even five minutes.

He wishes he’d had his tablet on him so he could have done some paperwork while mainlining his coffee; he feels awkward sitting around wasting time when there are reports waiting to be meticulously filled out and filed. But fuck if he’s going out to the bullpen before he can be reasonably sure he won’t fucking meltdown as soon as someone looks at him.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and Gavin freezes, because there are a grand total of three people who’d dare, and since Anderson is retired, and Jeff left three hours ago, there’s only one option.

Connor looks… neutral, when Gavin finally manages to turn around. Which means he’s absolutely still pissed.

“Officers Wilkins and Morgan wanted coffee,” he says, not clipped, but definitely not anywhere close to friendly either. “They were both apparently too concerned with your mental state to come get some for themselves. Can I please use the machine?”

“Uh, sure,” Gavin says, eloquently, as he shuffles back to give Connor access.

“Thank you, Detective Reed,” he replies, smiling blandly, and ah shit. He only calls him Detective Reed when he’s angry and planning to be fucking _unpleasant _about it.

Fuck Gavin’s _entire _life.

He watches Connor grab two cups and beginning to fix them up with coffee, looking perfectly calm and comfortable, except for the yellow LED at his temple. At least the silence seems to be awkward for both of them.

Gavin needs to fix this. It hurts him deep in his soul to admit it even to himself, but he fucked up, and he needs to actually fix it, instead of just enduring until hopefully Connor gets over it and they start pretending it never happened.

Fuck.

“Uh, about earlier…” he starts, and cringes at how fucking dumb and awkward he sounds.

Connor freezes mid-movement, LED flashing red. It lasts only for a split-second, then he’s calmly stirring sugar into one of the cups again. “Yes?”  
  
“I, uh. I… shouldn’t have said that.” God he’s so fucking _bad _at this. How did two people who talked at others for a living produce _this_?

This time, the pause in Connor’s movement looks deliberate. He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t turn, and Gavin assumes that means he’s supposed to keep up his pathetic attempts at groveling.

“I was out of line,” he forces out, trying to remember if he ever learned how to sound genuine. “I’m the last person who should be judging someone for… literally any work related life choices. I just… I don’t know, I was an asshole for no fucking reason.” He thinks he’s going to throw up. “I’m sorry.”

There’s no reply. Connor doesn’t say anything, just keeps thoughtfully fixing up his friends’ coffees, and Gavin feels distantly angry about that, somewhere deep under the rising panic and feverish terror. He fucking hates feelings, who the _fuck _thought those were a good fucking idea?

He takes a sip of coffee, proud of how his hand isn’t shaking, to stop himself from marching out of the room and up the stairs to throw himself off the fucking roof.

“Do you want to go out sometime, Gavin?”

Gavin doesn’t choke on his coffee, but it’s fucking close. He can’t have heard that correctly. There’s no way. No fucking way. Nuh-uh. Nuh. Uh.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes, I know, you said that already,” Connor says, turning to smile at him, warmer now, and oooooh, this fucking _asshole_.

“Don’t get fucking smart with me, you smarmy plastic fuck,” Gavin growls, stepping in to poke Connor in the chest. “What the _fuck _was that?”

He looks down at where Gavin’s finger is poking him, brushing it away with his hand, then back up to meet Gavin’s eyes, look on his face like he thinks he’s too stupid to live. “It’s a simple question, Gavin. Do you. Want. To go out. Sometime?”

And Gavin doesn’t know how to react, because this situation has just stopped making any sort of sense, so all he can think of to say is “What the _fuck_?”

And Connor.

_Connor_.

This plastic mother_fucker_.

He smirks, running his eyes down Gavin’s body, tongue coming out to wet his lips, looking like a fucking _predator _and Gavin has never felt so objectified in his life.

“Well,” he says, shrugging, eyes running back up to Gavin’s face, and Gavin is suddenly painfully aware he’s blushing like a dumbass kid in the middle of the department break room. “That _does _seem like a more productive way to work out our interpersonal tension than antagonizing each other until it comes to blows, considering that I can, and would, snap you like a twig.”

Gavin swallows helplessly, too fucking loud, and Connor grins like a fucking shark.

“Unless that’s what you like, of course,” he says lightly, and Gavin can’t look away from his eyes, dark and warm, and full of promise. “I’d be willing to give it a try in a scenario where I wasn’t being provoked with personal attacks.”

He stays there, in Gavin’s space, for a few moments, waiting, before patting Gavin’s chest. “You can think about it,” he allows, before turning to pick up his coffees. “Come join me in the bullpen when you’re ready,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves. “We have a case, and you’ve been slacking off for long enough.”

Oh.

Oh, _fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://voidpants.tumblr.com/) if u wanna come chat


End file.
